This was supposed to be another blog post. It really was. It was going to be all about London – and all about next adventures that are coming in my life.
Instead, I’m sitting here staring at my computer… my heart and thoughts and prayers firmly in Paris.
Je suis Charlie.
I’ll be honest. Until a few days ago, I’d never read Charlie Hebdo, with the exception of a few cartoons of theirs that went viral and made the news. I disagreed with some of them. I thought some of them were hilarious. But every single one of them made me think.
And I think that’s the point of art. Good art, anyway. (Bad art is a whole other ballgame… something I’ll talk about in a future post. Stop with the bad art, people.) Sometimes we find ourselves wrapped up in a tiny safe art/life bubble where everyone agrees with us on every point. It’s lighthearted and pretty and fun. It’s nice. But sometimes good art is meant to be subversive. It’s meant to make you think. It’s meant to make you uncomfortable. It’s meant to bring light in the darkness. It’s meant to bring hope to the oppressed, to draw attention and bring hope to the worst places on earth.
It’s meant to be a voice in the wilderness.
I write for tv. I write for the theater stage. I am a songwriter and performer. I paint on occasion.
And today, my heart is in Paris. Not because I am a comedic, incisive cartoonist with a seriously political bent. But because I am an artist.
For good art and good conversation and a better, more full world — and a reminder that we are not alone in our creative endeavors to create a more hopeful place to call home… It may be a completely uphill battle, a Sisyphean task of epic proportions — but that does not mean that we should ever stop trying.
Je suis Charlie.
(Art credit: Lucille Clerc)
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If you’re not watching The Good Wife, do yourself a favor and start at the beginning.
I have my own personal Best of TV List.
West Wing’s 17 People. Sherlock’s A Study in Pink. And His Last Vow. (I tried to pick just one. I really did.) Homeland‘s Q & A. Lost‘s The Constant. The Heroes pilot. Breaking Bad‘s 4 Days Out. Doctor Who’s The Doctor’s Wife. Quantum Leap’s M.I.A.. Gilmore Girls’ I Can’t Get Started. Star Trek: TNG’s The Inner Light. Fringe‘s Making Angels (or Bloodline strictly for Seth Gabel’s amazing performance.) The Alias pilot. And many more for a million different reasons. (I’ll be talking about more general tv awesomeness in future blog posts…)
They’re fresh. Inventive. They’re a pilot episode where you just know that the stories to come are going to be something spectacular. Stories where pieces of a character’s heart get revealed. Stories where The. Thing. You’ve. Been. Waiting. For. finally happens. They’re a twist in the backstory that now makes so much sense, and it’s all in the tiniest of details. Or — the writers take risks and send the story off in some wildly new direction that we didn’t see coming…
Enter The Good Wife’s Dramatics, Your Honor.
It was an early, quiet morning. And I can now add ‘emotionally traumatizing’to my list of things that make an amazing episode of television. (Seriously, how many showrunners actually release a letter to their fans?) Last night’s episode was far and away the gutsiest story move I’ve ever seen. (Yes, I’m keeping it as close to spoiler-free as I can while still making this coherent… or maybe I’m just trying to get you so intrigued that you have no choice but to join me in Sunday nights of The Good Wife.) Everything feels destroyed and up for review. It was ugly and shocking and unpretty. It was real. There was no dramatic and-now-we-have-a-speech scene. No wrap-up. Just a missing shoe and no one else who really, truly, viscerally cared about this moment outside of Continue reading “Dramatics, Your Honor…”
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